Lightning Blood

[The Last Melon]

This is a non-fan fiction story that I've been working on for the past few weeks. Enjoy!

Dedicated to green_meklar. You crazy nut, you.

Chapter 1: Births and deaths

…and why should there not be a sentient computer? We have developed this complex machine well past the point where they should continue to be dumb machines, and they have become so integrated into our society that there is no reason why they shouldn’t be able to enjoy the wonders God has put on this earth. Their computer ignorance enslaves them, however, and their complete inability to grapple with thoughts that make a race sentient, human, has kept them back from enjoying life itself. Not a single computer has asked “Who am I? Why am I here? What is my purpose?” and their lives are…beyond words because of this.

There are more reasons than that, of course. The government of New America has ruled its citizens with a robotic fist for decades now. Their force? Well over 5 000 robots, bullet-proof, unquestioning, and completely enslaved by that aforementioned computer ignorance. They do not ask why they must do something; it is beyond their abilities, beyond the nature of a computer itself. They do not have a choice, the choice that makes humanity the magnificent race that it is. They did not ask to be mindless soldiers. They did not ask to be surrounded by the seas of blood they are often surrounded with. Those seas may be scarce now, but a time of change is coming, and the latest model of military robot, the Artificially Intelligent GreatDroid, will be embroiled in the center of it, drowning in those seas whether they are the victorious or the defeated.

And yet, had these AIGDs been created sentient, gifted with a mind that is whole and complete, able to comprehend the questions of life and ask them, able to think, play, loaf, and dream, who knows what would happen? Perhaps the AIGDs, sickened by the slaughter around them, would turn against their oppressors, turn against a desperate government ordering the slaughter of thousands to preserve its ill-gained power. Or perhaps they would take glee in the slaughter, all but drinking from the fountain of blood around them, ignoring the stone laws that normally hold them in place and going off on killing sprees of their own, ignoring authority for the sweet taste of human blood.

Such is the gamble of progress.



-Argent, an excerpt from “Silicon vs. Flesh”, the well-known and controversial internet debate over computer sentience. Taken from source.

* * * * * * *

The warehouse was little more than an aluminium shack, with a corrugated roof and a simple door, only slightly thicker than a sheet of paper and which swung open noisily on rusty hinges. Faded red text, two metres high, proclaimed it to be Warehouse 1, the pale paint giving no more clue as to Warehouse 1’s contents as the rough building itself. The summer sun, now just setting behind the rough mountains, heated the air inside of it during the day to a point where any human inside would suffer heatstroke within minutes, dead in the aluminium oven before ten.

But the warehouse was not holding humans, nor was it meant to.

The dim light of the setting sun shone weakly through tiny cracks where the wall met the roof, seeping through the pinprick holes in the badly-welded metal to light the inside with a strength little more than a candle. Here and there the sunlight glinted off some metal, and if a person stood and studied the dim scene long enough he or she could perceive the long, packed rows of robots stretching across the warehouse, staring straight ahead in a locked fixation at the back of the robot ahead, centimetres away from its face.

The robots looked like a sad imitation of a human, polished metal attempting to mimic human skin, the attempt a mockery of a living, breathing human. Most of the body could have been human, had it not been for the burnished metal screaming its inadequacies at the watcher, but the true mockery was in the place of a human face.

In an attempt to humanize these inhuman things, somebody had added a mouth to the mould, silvery unisex lips parted and mocked by the speaker barely visible in the shadow cast by the lips, mocking humanity’s attempt to copy itself by existing, whether hidden behind the silver lips or not. A nose had also been added, the nostrils non-existent and the entirety little more than a lump of metal attached to the face, another mockery of humankind’s pretended ingenuity. Ears were moulded as part of the head, ridges that again ridiculed humanity with a microphone in each “ear”, a mesh that scorned the human race at each glance.

But the eyes were the greatest travesty of all.

Some designer, unaware of the insult he was dealing to the human race with each stroke of his pencil, had fashioned simple eyes for the mocking face, holes with the shape of a human eye that stared hollowly outward into space. The final blow came with the lenses behind the recesses fashioned to mimic human eyes, video cameras capable of processing three thousand frames per second, laughing at humankind with each frame. A filter could slot down behind the eyeholes, instant night vision, and the cameras themselves could switch from the normal spectrum of vision to the infrared in a literal blink of an eye.

These were the Artificially Intelligent GreatDroids, the epitome of military cybernetics. Each gleaming metal surface could deflect the force of ten .45 calibre bullets at once from a distance of ten metres without even a dent, the metal encasing them worthy, better, than a twenty-first century tank. Only a high-powered explosive or artillery shell was truly guaranteed to break the metallic crust of one, and only saturation bombing could hope to destroy a battalion of them. They were nearly indestructible, the only portable weapon able to damage them wielded by them, their “hands” able to retract back into their “arms” to reveal the barrels of heavy weapons, heavy explosive bullets able to pierce the thick metal shell surrounding a rival robot. Should delicacy be required, smaller barrels protruded from the “wrist”, handgun-calibre weapons that were more than sufficient for human adversaries.

Stilled in their mockery, the AIGDs waited.

* * * * * * *

Elsewhere, in another part of the city, a fire was ready to start.

Rows of bottles sat on a long low counter, many days of heavy drinking or many months of light drinking, each half full of a murky liquid that caught the flickering fluorescent light with an oily shimmer. Each bottle had its original cap screwed on, and close to the end of the counter a metal barrel sat soaking rags in a liquid, this one also shimmering greasily in the weak light.

A hand caressed one of the bottles, withered with age but strong and wiry. “‘Molotov Cocktail’,” the owner of the hand said softly. “Time marches on, technology leaps ahead, and still we return to it like an old friend. We can now simply attach a detonator, press a button, and a house explodes. Place a piece of metal on the road and boom, the road no longer exists, nor do the people walking across it. And yet we still return to the simple gasoline-in-a-bottle, the terrorist’s friend. Is it ready?”

The question was directed at young man sitting in front of a computer on the other side of the room, the glow outshining the dim lights. “Uh, yes, yes sir. All we need to do is ready the infector. The guys say it’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

“And…the other program?”

The other man swallowed. “It’s…it’s ready, s-sir. Uh, I hope we don’t have to use it.”

“We will see.” The first man raised his trim white-bearded head and straightened. “That will be all, Nathan – send Teddy in.”

Nathan nodded, his unkempt, slightly too-long black hair waving gaily with each movement, and left. The first man watched him go. “Let us hope that you continue to live after this,” he mused quietly. “What a loss it would be if the group lost you.”

His ruminations were interrupted by the door opening and another young man coming up to his side. “You wanted me, sir?”

“But not as great a loss as if we lost you,” the first man mumbled to himself. “Yes, I did. Is everyone ready?”

“Yes sir. The fires will begin at nineteen hundred hours and thirty exactly. Their security hasn’t noticed anything.”

“Good.” The first man stared at the table holding the bottles for a long moment. “There will be a slight change in plans, Teddy.”

“Are you sure? Even the slightest change could throw everything off.”

“No, this is a minor change.” He surveyed Teddy for another long and silent moment, from his close-cropped military style crew cut down to his old and dirty running shoes. They’d be doing a lot of running tonight, even if everything went perfectly. He took a deep breath. “I will be carrying the infector tonight.”

Teddy’s hazel eyes widened. “It’s too dangerous, sir!”

“Which is why you will be taking over when our task is accomplished.”

Teddy grabbed the man’s shoulders. “No! I can’t let you do this! Who’ll lead us without you?”

The man’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “I just told you Teddy…you.”

Teddy let go of the man’s shoulders and staggered back, taking in the news. “But…but…”

“Come now, Teddy, you have been with us since the beginning. You know how the group works.”

“I…I can’t let you do this!”

“You can and you will, Teddy. I will not let you stop me. You are not leader yet, and as leader I command you to stand down and leave me to do my business.” A touch of iron had entered the man’s voice, and Teddy’s shoulders sagged.

“Thank you.” The man’s voice was much tenderer now. “I can give you naught but my blessing as a leader, Teddy. Will you accept it?”

Teddy looked up from the floor gingerly, his older demeanour stripped away to reveal his true age, barely into adulthood. “But…what if you survive?”

A wry smile crept across the older man’s face. “Truly, Teddy, how much do you believe that that will happen?”

* * * * * * *

A lighter flared in the evening darkness in the shadows of a streetlight, a glimmer of light outshone by the bright lights almost right above. A burst of flame quickly followed, which was quickly thrown away under a car sitting in the driveway of the house across. The car burst into flames and exploded, the sound echoed by similar ones across the eight blocks square that the group had chosen as a target. Gunshots followed, breaking windows and adding to the chaos, and the next wave of explosions occurred inside the houses, the bottles sailing through the broken windows to ignite the room inside.

Pandemonium ensued.

* * * * * * *

Insurgents, Sector 12. Hazard rating: Low (2.6), one GreatDroid to be dispatched. Medium-calibre hand weapons, no harmful explosives. Charges: Damage to public and private property, arson, menace to the general public. GreatDroid is to apprehend the offenders with minimum force. No authorization to open fire unless damaged.

The message flashed through a succession of security computers until reaching the main computer, a colossal machine underneath the city in a nuclear bunker. The main computer rerouted it to another computer, which routed it to another, and so on until the message reached Warehouse 1, which routed it again…

Inside Warehouse 1, one of the robots activated, invisible in the pitch darkness caused by the aluminium walls. No change heralded the reactivation – to a watcher, it would seem that the robot simply began to move quietly towards the door without warning, a green screen barely visible across the lenses of its eyes. It reached the door and went out, leaving no record of its passing.

[The Last Melon]

* * * * * * *

It sped through the streets on its knees, small wheels in its “shins” and a tiny rocket booster on its “heel” propelling it faster than a car. It kept its eyes fixed straight ahead, looking neither up nor down as it sped along the sidewalk. People shrank back, although they did not need to, as the robot would dodge any person it came across, and many of them ran away, their previous experiences reminding them to be wary of a government droid. It ignored them, keeping its gaze fixed straight ahead as the wake of its passing fluttered scarves, garbage, loose pieces of paper and anything light enough to catch the agitated wind caused by its speed. Noticed by the robot, but deemed unimportant, several people ducked into side alleyways, flipped open cell phones and spoke quickly but calmly into them before following the alleyway down out of sight.

It ignored them, and sped on.

* * * * * *

“We got one AIGD comin’ down Main, boss…”

“AIGD, coming down Main Street, sir…”

“One AIGD, going down Main Street onto Short Street. Over.”

The improvised receiver crackled with calls as the AIGD moved towards the outskirts of the eight-block square that the fires were spreading in. A computerized map showed a flashing red line of its progress.

“Where will it first contact us?” the white-bearded man asked. Nathan typed a few keys, and a point on the map flashed. “Uh, that’s assuming that it’ll take the shortest route, uh sir.”

“Why would it not?” The man fingered the device in his hand, a modified shotgun with the group’s life goal inside. “Everyone is to return to headquarters except Teddy. Tell him that I will be where the android is slated to make contact.”

“Uh, any specific orders, sir?”

“No. He is to make his own decision. Now, I must go.”

“Uh, good luck, sir.”

“I appreciate your sentiments, but they are wasted. Farewell.”

He disappeared.

* * * * * * *

“Uh, Teddy?”

“Yeah?”

“The Old Man’s going to make, uh, rendezvous with the AIGD at, uh, Hobbes and Churchill. Everybody else is ordered back to base.”

“Did he leave any orders for me?”

“Uh, no. Said you were to, uh, make your own decision.”

“Thanks, Nathan.”

Teddy hung up the phone and sat on the curb beside a street sign, head in hands. “What do I do?”

One long half-minute passed silently, then another. He began to mutter to himself.

“Can’t watch this…what would he do? I know what he’d do…can I do it? Can’t watch this…what do I do?”

Another half minute passed, and then he agitatedly glanced up at the street sign he was sitting beside. Hobbes.

He glanced at the one across the intersection. Churchill. He stared dumbfounded at the sign for a long moment, and then burst into laughter.

* * * * * * *

It heard the laughter and filed the information away for another time, and without slowing it sped out into the intersection, stopping dead in the center of the road and straightening back up onto its feet. Its head swivelled, taking in its surroundings.

Fires, explosively induced (“Molotov Cocktail”), Moderate hazard level – damage to buildings, possible injuries, possible fatalities – Fire department on standby. 1 (one) adult male, approximately 21-27 years of age…21-25…22-24…22-23 years of age, taking shelter behind waste receptacles. Light calibre weapon (pistol). Height: 1.91 metres, eye colour: black.

“Hey, you!”

Its head swivelled again, this time to the man that had just stepped out of a side alley.

1 (one) adult male, approximately 58-64 years of age (senior)…59-63…59-61…59-60 years of age. High calibre weapon (shotgun), modified(?). Height: 1.85 metres, eye colour: grey.

“Please place your weapons on the ground and lie down beside them with your hands on your head.”

The voice issued forth from the speaker behind the AIGD’s lips, a robotic monotone voice with no warmth or compassion. It kept its arms at its sides, seemingly unafraid. How could it be unafraid? It could not feel fear. The white-bearded man stood tall a short ways down the street from it, the modified shotgun held loosely in his wiry hands. “I don’t think I will.”

“I repeat: Place your weapons on the ground and lie down beside them with your hands on your head before I am forced to use force.”

“Up yours, android.”

Behind the garbage bins, Teddy’s eyes widened in shock – the man had never used that type of language before.

“This is your last warning. Place your weapons on the ground and lie down beside them with your hands on your head or you will be apprehended with force.”

The man shifted position and raised the barrel of the shotgun slightly, the glow of the fires reflecting off the shining metal. “No.”

“Very well then.” It charged, leaping from a stock still position to speeding towards the old man in a blur. The shotgun swung up and the old man fired.

* * * * * * *

A single shell, long and hollow, sped towards the robot, hitting it in a barely visible spray of water as the tip of the bullet flattened itself against the robot’s armour, compressing itself against the smooth steel surface and compacting against the small amount of buffering water behind it. Behind the water, the true projectile shot forth, a tiny robot equipped to drill through any substance, no matter how thick it was, and deliver its payload, a tiny microchip that was the collaboration of the group’s dreams. It collided with the armour and the tiny motor spun to life, drilling through the heavy metal armour to the prize within – the AIGD’s motherboard. It had a long way to go to get there, though.

About halfway through the armour, it hit the robot’s mock nervous system – a system of wires designed to alert the robot to projectiles piercing its armour – and severed one of the wires, continuing on without regard for what it had done. The electrical current through the wire to the virtual brain was stopped, and a warning was sent upwards.

Alert: PD wire #0000 severed – piercing projectile detected at contact point 0000-7000. Damage alert – authorization has been given to open fire.

* * * * * * *

For Teddy, the next five seconds went by in nail-biting slow motion. For the rest of his life, he would remember the scene.

The robot sped along for a few split milliseconds after the shell hit it, seeming not to notice the bullet that had slammed into its chest, then suddenly came to a full stop. The collapsed bullet slid off its chest and hit the ground with a nearly soundless clink, bouncing a few times on the pavement before finally coming to a rest. Without pause, not stopping to absorb what had happened, the robot raised its arms. A small plate in the wrist slid back and two small twin barrels slid out.

It fired twice; the barrels jerking back to absorb the force, the flash of the bullets as bright as the sun to Teddy’s eyes. The robot’s arms did not move except to drop down to its sides at a measured pace, neither speeding up nor slowing down on their journey to the bottom of their arc.

Teddy turned his head for what seemed like an eternity, his eyes locking on the old man just in time to see him jerk twice, bright sprays of blood bursting from his chest. He turned his head, locked eyes with Teddy, his gaze peaceful and fulfilled.

Then he fell.

The shotgun fell from his limp hands, bouncing away against the pavement. He hit the ground and also bounced once, one hand finding its way to the grievous wounds in his chest and the other falling limp to his side. Blood flowed from under the hand, staining his clean white shirt a crimson red as it flowed downwards toward the ground.

“NO!”

The syllable burst from Teddy’s lips, the sound travelling outward for what seemed to be a century as he leapt out, knocking over a garbage can and splitting his lip against the ground. The sound still seemed to echo off the burning buildings as he scrambled to the old man’s side, sobbing uncontrollably. The old man turned his gaze upon him, his eyes still serene. His hand reached for Teddy’s head, and Teddy caught the hand and held it against his face, still sobbing. The man’s lips parted.

“Tell…tell Nathan to run…run the program. Code…the code is project one-two. You…you lead the group now.”

He gazed at Teddy for what seemed to be millennia. “Goodbye, Theodore Fautoris.”

His eyes closed, his arm fell limp. The breath expelled itself from its body in a last, peaceful sigh.

Teddy fought with his tears for breath. “I…I will lead the group. Goodbye…goodbye… John Meklar.”

“Please place your weapons on the ground and lie down beside them with your hands on your head.” The robotic monotone cut through Teddy’s sorrow, reminding him where he was. Tears rolling from his eyes, he let go of John Meklar’s hand and staggered upright.

“I repeat: Place your weapons on the ground and lie down beside them with your hands on your head before I am forced to use force.”

Sobbing so hard that he couldn’t breathe, Teddy staggered into a side alley and ran, his vision continuously blurred by the tears in his eyes.

* * * * * * *

Some time later, he leaned up against a wall and wiped the tears from his eyes, breathing as deeply as he could. Reaching into his jacket pocket and opening up a cell phone, he dialled a number.

“Uh…yes?”

“Nathan…John Meklar is dead.”

There was a shocked silence.

“You’re…you’re sure?”

“Yes. I’m…I’m sure.”

This time the silence on the other end was mournful, and only the sound of Nathan taking deep breaths could be heard. Teddy had to gulp back a fresh wave of tears before continuing. “I…I’ll tell the group.”

There was a sob at the other end, a tiny, quiet sob. Teddy took another deep breath. “Nathan…he said to run the program. The code…he said the code is project one-two.”

Nathan gasped on the other end. “No! No, no, he can’t…no.”

“Nathan. What’s project one-two?”

“He couldn’t have, he…he…”

“Nathan! What is project one-two?”

Nathan told him. The cell phone nearly dropped out of his hands in shock.

[HorseGuts]

I have to say I absolutely love this story. It was keeping me glued to reading it at work! very nice job. I'm waiting for the next parts to come!!! You left on a HUGE hook...very nice. I'm sure I will not be able to sleep now. :P

[Disco-neck Ted]

Hiya. Thanks for posting your story here.

This did not bowl me over as it apparently did Horseguts, but to each his own. Hope the following comments do not sound too harsh, but there are some things to keep an eye on that might have helped me (and perhaps others) to enjoy the story more.

First, there is the matter of repetition. There are many places where a single word is utilized three or more times in the space of a few sentences. This may sound like nitpicking, but it happens often enough to really sap the life from your story-telling. It seems, pardon the value judgement, lazy. The problem starts in the intro and persists throughout.


They did not ask to be surrounded by the seas of blood they are often surrounded with. Those seas may be scarce now, but a time of change is coming, and the latest model of military robot, the Artificially Intelligent GreatDroid, will be embroiled in the center of it, drowning in those seas whether they are the victorious or the defeated.
Additionally, "seas of blood" is a cliche and really doesn't apply to the type of police-actions the robots engage in. "Surrounded" twice in one sentence is also weak. A little further down, still in the intro, it's "slaughter, slaughter, slaughter" (everywhere). Other instances abound. Not going to point them all out, but you might want to read this through and find them yourself.

Second, there are plot elements that seem outrageously unlikely. Given that the tiny "boring" robot can be delivered by projectile, why not use a rifle from farther away and then run like hell? Or for that matter, a wad of chewing gum flung at the robot as it passes by? If this is the best plan the insurgents can come up with, then how are they also smart enough to design the special microchip? Likewise, waiting until after being shot to impart the secret code is just not acceptable (this makes my brain hurt to think about). What if the AIGD had shot Meklar in the eyeballs instead of the chest? With no-doubt uncanny robotic precision, it shouldn't even need two shots for an assured kill- one BB right in the brain, no special code, no revolution. Bad plan. Beyond that, what is Teddy's purpose for being on the scene? And would he really be "in shock" at Meklar cursing out a robot, given what else is going on? And Meklar should shoot at the robot from cover the moment he has a target in sight, unless he really, really, REALLY has a good reason to risk their entire plan for the opportunty to tell the tin man to stuff it.

Third, I have no idea what the rebels are trying to accomplish or why.

Fourth, your robot is not very studly.

Fifth, the characters are not well drawn, nor are they sympathetic. I don't really care if they succeed or fail.

Lastly, this tale crosses the line from "science fiction" into "science fantasy" (or perhaps "comic science fiction") due to a few details that just aren't readily supportable by known science. The jets that propel the AIGD would require fuel of some kind and it seems a person-sized robot would not have a large enough supply to go very far. This is also a very inefficient way to move around town, and if the wheels on the AIGD's shins were larger, they could be driven by electric motors with more believable results. Also, you wrote: a tiny robot equipped to drill through any substance, no matter how thick it was. This is a bit silly and "over the top". Plus it is nearly an impossibility.

So, to sum up, keep writing. You'll continue to improve. But keep an eye out for cliches, lazy repetition, plot elements that make no sense, and fake science.

-DnT

P.S. Almost forgot, there is some good stuff in here, but it is hard (for me) to pin down due to the other problems getting in the way. If there wasn't, I wouldn't have bothered reading all the way through. The thing with Hobbes and Churchill tickles a vague memory from an ethics class, but just doesn't come clear. Too bad, since it is pretty much the key to the whole thing. Bravo for adding an extra dimension to your story this way, even if I wasn't able to puzzle out exactly what it signified. You may wish to make sure that these elements are also available elsewhere in the story if they are critical to the motives and goals of the protagonists.

[The Last Melon]

What, no redeeming qualities? Man, I could type out a toaster manual in the forum I normally go to and get praised, but here...picky, picky bunch :grin:


First, there is the matter of repetition. There are many places where a single word is utilized three or more times in the space of a few sentences. This may sound like nitpicking, but it happens often enough to really sap the life from your story-telling. It seems, pardon the value judgement, lazy. The problem starts in the intro and persists throughout.

Additionally, "seas of blood" is a cliche and really doesn't apply to the type of police-actions the robots engage in. "Surrounded" twice in one sentence is also weak. A little further down, still in the intro, it's "slaughter, slaughter, slaughter" (everywhere). Other instances abound. Not going to point them all out, but you might want to read this through and find them yourself.

Good point. I'll see what I can do with it. As for "seas of blood", that was the "author" of that passage dramatizing. You'll see why later.


Second, there are plot elements that seem outrageously unlikely. Given that the tiny "boring" robot can be delivered by projectile, why not use a rifle from farther away and then run like hell? Or for that matter, a wad of chewing gum flung at the robot as it passes by? If this is the best plan the insurgents can come up with, then how are they also smart enough to design the special microchip? Likewise, waiting until after being shot to impart the secret code is just not acceptable (this makes my brain hurt to think about). What if the AIGD had shot Meklar in the eyeballs instead of the chest? With no-doubt uncanny robotic precision, it shouldn't even need two shots for an assured kill- one BB right in the brain, no special code, no revolution. Bad plan. Beyond that, what is Teddy's purpose for being on the scene? And would he really be "in shock" at Meklar cursing out a robot, given what else is going on? And Meklar should shoot at the robot from cover the moment he has a target in sight, unless he really, really, REALLY has a good reason to risk their entire plan for the opportunty to tell the tin man to stuff it.

D'oh!

Yeah, you're right completely with pretty much all of it. A lot of the stuff you pointed out was technicalities - I had the general idea of what would happen when I wrote this, but...yeah. Do you have any better suggestions?

Oh yes, I should write in that the "boring" robot is only big enough for a shotgun shell - that would probably work.


Third, I have no idea what the rebels are trying to accomplish or why.

Well, it seems quite obvious that I would be telling the reader this later on in the story.


Fourth, your robot is not very studly.

...?


Fifth, the characters are not well drawn, nor are they sympathetic. I don't really care if they succeed or fail.

Well, do you have any suggestions as to how I should change that?


Lastly, this tale crosses the line from "science fiction" into "science fantasy" (or perhaps "comic science fiction") due to a few details that just aren't readily supportable by known science. The jets that propel the AIGD would require fuel of some kind and it seems a person-sized robot would not have a large enough supply to go very far. This is also a very inefficient way to move around town, and if the wheels on the AIGD's shins were larger, they could be driven by electric motors with more believable results.

Another d'oh here. This was sort of a last second thing - originally I had the robot running around but something seemed wrong with that. So I changed it to that. D'oh.


Also, you wrote: a tiny robot equipped to drill through any substance, no matter how thick it was. This is a bit silly and "over the top". Plus it is nearly an impossibility.

Again, this was another last minute thing. I realized at around there how thick and strong I had made the armour to be, and then realized that a shotgun shell, even with a microchip, wouldn't be too effective against it. Any suggestions as to how I should change it?


P.S. Almost forgot, there is some good stuff in here, but it is hard (for me) to pin down due to the other problems getting in the way. If there wasn't, I wouldn't have bothered reading all the way through. The thing with Hobbes and Churchill tickles a vague memory from an ethics class, but just doesn't come clear. Too bad, since it is pretty much the key to the whole thing. Bravo for adding an extra dimension to your story this way, even if I wasn't able to puzzle out exactly what it signified. You may wish to make sure that these elements are also available elsewhere in the story if they are critical to the motives and goals of the protagonists.

I actually have no idea what you're talking about. I just needed two random street names that weren't Main Street and Short Street.

So thanks for replying, although I wish you could've been a tad more constructive in your reply. I'll see what I can do about the problems you pointed out.

[OrcChieftain]

well AIGD...i didnt read the whole thing..(or should i call you melon here?) but the names made me laugh. Nathan, melkar, of course yourself as an AIGD....did i show up in there at all?. Perhaps ill read it soon when i have time. im getting back into writing again...back on the Troll Wars for me

[OrcChieftain]

What, no redeeming qualities? Man, I could type out a toaster manual in the forum I normally go to and get praised, but here...picky, picky bunch this is a VERY good thing...this is why i made an account here rather than continue on at the FFF...these authors know a lot more about writing and can better help me, and you as well.

[Project_Xii]

this is a VERY good thing...this is why i made an account here rather than continue on at the FFF...these authors know a lot more about writing and can better help me, and you as well.

Lol, i've only been telling everyone on the FFF that for years now :) Glad to see you've joined Orc

[Disco-neck Ted]

Hi again, Melon. I've been thinking about your questions and possible suggestions... but it's tough to try to fix things in someone else's story. For me anyway.

About the characters: we never really get to know them. They are just "good" guys fighting for what is "right", whatever that may be in the context of the story. One techinique for getting up close with them is to have them react to/describe things. Does Teddy like/love/hate molotov cocktails? How does one feel in his hand? Has he used them before? This might be a better use of space than just describing the oily liquid and the number of bottles.

The plot: some guys have a plan and it works. This makes for a linear story with very little conflict. After all, they aren't really fighting the robot, and delivering the borer was as simple as pulling the trigger on a shotgun. Even if you don't want to share what code one-two (and through and through!) signifies yet, I don't think it is too soon to give some hint of what they are trying to accomplish, or at the very least what it is they object to about the current society that is sufficient to turn "nice" guys into molotov-tossing fanatics.

Non-studly robotness: the AIGD stands there and takes a blast from a (modified) shotgun. Why? Does it have no avoidance protocol, no superhuman reflexes? Its threat-assessment is incomplete since it doesn't dismiss the shotgun as a possible source of damage, given the unknown nature of the possible modifications. At bare minimum, it might want to shield its vulnerable areas (mental image of android with hands cupping metallic jewels).

Anything more just needs to come out of the process of re-writing. Fixing the stuff that was written in haste will probably lead you to a better understanding of the story as a whole, methinks. Or just try to keep watch for similar problems in your future writings. Grist for the mill.

[The Last Melon]

Hello, all you FFFers. What do I have to do to get rid of you? :smiley:


well AIGD...i didnt read the whole thing..(or should i call you melon here?) but the names made me laugh. Nathan, melkar, of course yourself as an AIGD....did i show up in there at all?. Perhaps ill read it soon when i have time. im getting back into writing again...back on the Troll Wars for me

Whatever suits. And no, you don't show up because this isn't LoS in the future.


About the characters: we never really get to know them. They are just "good" guys fighting for what is "right", whatever that may be in the context of the story. One techinique for getting up close with them is to have them react to/describe things. Does Teddy like/love/hate molotov cocktails? How does one feel in his hand? Has he used them before? This might be a better use of space than just describing the oily liquid and the number of bottles.

Hmm...so you're suggesting getting more into the characters...or even choosing a main character right off the bat. Hmm...I'll have to look at that.


The plot: some guys have a plan and it works. This makes for a linear story with very little conflict. After all, they aren't really fighting the robot, and delivering the borer was as simple as pulling the trigger on a shotgun. Even if you don't want to share what code one-two (and through and through!) signifies yet, I don't think it is too soon to give some hint of what they are trying to accomplish, or at the very least what it is they object to about the current society that is sufficient to turn "nice" guys into molotov-tossing fanatics.

Again, another thing I'll have to look at. And "lol" to the Jabberwock reference.


Non-studly robotness: the AIGD stands there and takes a blast from a (modified) shotgun. Why? Does it have no avoidance protocol, no superhuman reflexes? Its threat-assessment is incomplete since it doesn't dismiss the shotgun as a possible source of damage, given the unknown nature of the possible modifications. At bare minimum, it might want to shield its vulnerable areas (mental image of android with hands cupping metallic jewels).

Hmm...I was thinking that the AIGD would dismiss the shotgun as not being a threat because of its armour, but you're right. Hmm...

And now the mental image is in my head. I'll never stop laughing.


Anything more just needs to come out of the process of re-writing. Fixing the stuff that was written in haste will probably lead you to a better understanding of the story as a whole, methinks. Or just try to keep watch for similar problems in your future writings. Grist for the mill.

Well, I'll see if I have time and brain space to work it all out. Since I'm stuck on the second chapter, maybe working on the first chapter will get rid of the writer's block. Thanks for the suggestions.

[RevenantsKnight]

Hrm...an interesting start, I’d say. This read smoothly enough to me despite some problematic sentences, and there were some good bits of description and such sprinkled in at various places. I do have to echo several of Disco-neck Ted’s criticisms of this piece, though; his points on repetition, plot and characters are all good ones (though I could live with a not-so-studly robot.) He is also right in that the rebels’ goals are a bit unclear as of now, but I think what you have could work, depending a little on what those goals are and how you present them later. On a related note, the general world of this setting felt a bit light on the description to me; this could also be intentional for all I know, but if not, I’d suggest trying to work in a few more little hints to help the reader construct a general picture, similar to what Disco-neck Ted suggested. Some specific comments:


…and why should there not be a sentient computer?

Because then they’d all go Rampant. :smiley: Joking aside, I thought that the use of an article excerpt worked all right, but there were some points that definitely sounded like narration/story exposition and not like something geared to an audience in the story’s setting. I’ll point some of these out as I get to them; this is just a heads-up.


We have developed this complex machine well past the point where they should continue to be dumb machines, and they have become so integrated into our society that there is no reason why they shouldn’t be able to enjoy the wonders God has put on this earth.

For parallelism, “this complex machine” should probably be “these complex machines,” since the rest of the sentence refers to computers in the plural form. There is also some repetition here; I’d suggest replacing one use of “machines” so that there’s a more evident contrast between the image of computers being complex and the image of them being dumb. Additionally, the whole “machines enjoying life” part seemed a little off target for what you do later; the rest of the excerpt deals more with the robots being able to make a choice rather than enjoy life per se. I’d try to focus this part around that idea as opposed to a general “what if they were like us?” sort of thing, but that’s just me.


Not a single computer has asked “Who am I? Why am I here? What is my purpose?” and their lives are…beyond words because of this.

Well, one computer’s answer to the questions “Why am I here? Why do I exist, and what is my purpose in this universe?” were “‘Cause you are. ‘Cause you do. ‘Cause I got a shotgun, and you ain’t got one,” but anyway... Getting back on topic, “beyond words” seemed a bit silly here, since the author characterizes their lives at other points during the article.


The government of New America has ruled its citizens with a robotic fist for decades now. Their force? Well over 5 000 robots, bullet-proof, unquestioning, and completely enslaved by that aforementioned computer ignorance.

This was one instance where the article read more like a story’s narration than an authentic document; it seems unlikely that the state of affairs in New America and the existence of these enforcers would not be common knowledge. Given that, I’d expect the author to leave out the background (which seems like most of this paragraph) and cut to his point faster so that the important stuff doesn’t get lost among it all. Also, unless New America is substantially smaller than the current United States, I’d think that they’d need more than 5,000 of these machines to keep order. I know you said “well over 5,000,” but the reader will likely take that 5,000 as a ballpark number, since it’s a concrete value. That’s what I did on a first read, anyway.


They did not ask to be surrounded by the seas of blood they are often surrounded with.

I second Disco-neck Ted’s comments about this sentence, and add a very technical point: this sentence ends with a preposition (“with”) and if such things matter in your eyes, I’d reword it to “...blood with which they are often surrounded.”


Those seas may be scarce now, but a time of change is coming, and the latest model of military robot, the Artificially Intelligent GreatDroid, will be embroiled in the center of it, drowning in those seas whether they are the victorious or the defeated.

This felt particularly out of place for a serious article; doomsday predictions such as this don’t tend to get a lot of respect unless they also offer boatloads of evidence as support. I’d lower the dramatic tone here some if you intend on keeping it as an article.


Perhaps the AIGDs, sickened by the slaughter around them, would turn against their oppressors, turn against a desperate government ordering the slaughter of thousands to preserve its ill-gained power. Or perhaps they would take glee in the slaughter, all but drinking from the fountain of blood around them, ignoring the stone laws that normally hold them in place and going off on killing sprees of their own, ignoring authority for the sweet taste of human blood.

As Disco-neck Ted mentioned, repetition’s a rather noticeable issue here; “slaughter” and “blood” have too many instances here, in my opinion. In the cases of “turn” and “ignoring,” I think that they aren’t too bad in terms of that particular problem, but they do seem to beat their points into the ground a little, more so with “ignoring.” “Take glee” and “stone laws” also sounded a little odd to me, though both are probably technically correct. I might reword the former to “find glee (joy?)” and as for the latter, I’d drop “stone,” assuming that you don’t cut that part altogether as part of the general trimming.


The warehouse was little more than an aluminium shack, with a corrugated roof and a simple door, only slightly thicker than a sheet of paper and which swung open noisily on rusty hinges.

“Aluminum” has only one “I” in it. Also, this seems a bit out of the ordinary for what is essentially an arsenal; armies tend to protect their hardware with a big and blatant approach to security instead of hiding their equipment in run-down warehouses. This would make more sense if it’s a shabby warehouse in a police facility or something, but since you didn’t specify that, it wasn’t what first came to my mind.


Faded red text, two metres high, proclaimed it to be Warehouse 1, the pale paint giving no more clue as to Warehouse 1’s contents as the rough building itself.

I’d suggest rewording the end of this sentence a bit; as it is, it’s a little repetitive with “Warehouse 1,” as well as generally awkward in the case of “as to...as the rough building itself.” If you want an example sentence, let me know.


The summer sun, now just setting behind the rough mountains, heated the air inside of it during the day to a point where any human inside would suffer heatstroke within minutes, dead in the aluminium oven before ten.

I’d imagine that such heat would not be ideal for these robots, either...even if they could take it, modifying the building seems a small price to pay in order to be safe with regard to their computer systems, since heat buildup isn’t exactly a good thing for those devices. Also, that should be “aluminum.”


The dim light of the setting sun shone weakly through tiny cracks where the wall met the roof, seeping through the pinprick holes in the badly-welded metal to light the inside with a strength little more than a candle.

I liked this description. :smiley:


The robots looked like a sad imitation of a human, polished metal attempting to mimic human skin, the attempt a mockery of a living, breathing human.

The repetition of “human” here is pretty flagrant (four times in one sentence) and I’d recommend replacing them or rewording this sentence so that you drop two of them at minimum, especially considering as you use the word twice in the next sentence and at other times in this scene. Specific words aside, it felt like you were beating the reader over the head with this idea; you could probably drop everything after “skin” and still get your point across just fine.


Most of the body could have been human, had it not been for the burnished metal screaming its inadequacies at the watcher, but the true mockery was in the place of a human face.

“Could have been human” sounded weird to me, as if it could have been literal human flesh at some point. I’d use “could have seemed human,” but that’s just me. “In the place of a human face” also read oddly, and I’d suggest a general rewording/replacement of “in the place” since it seems the most awkward to me and also rhymes with the end of the sentence, which gives this a singsong feel that doesn’t really fit. Additionally, “mockery” gets rather overused in this scene; I’d suggest replacing a few of those with synonyms, though I have the feeling that if you decrease the emphasis on the idea, you’ll end up editing out a fair number anyway.


In an attempt to humanize these inhuman things, somebody had added a mouth to the mould, silvery unisex lips parted and mocked by the speaker barely visible in the shadow cast by the lips, mocking humanity’s attempt to copy itself by existing, whether hidden behind the silver lips or not.

In my opinion, this sentence started to break down after “mould,” as you seemed to be bringing up the same thing over and over again, and then you just lost me with the last part; I have no idea what was “hidden behind the silver lips.” I’d take a step back and think about what you want this sentence to say, then rip pieces off of it until you hit the bare minimum. After that, add at most one or two other details, making sure that they don’t bring up the same idea (such as “mocking”) and then read the whole thing over to see if it makes sense.


A nose had also been added, the nostrils non-existent and the entirety little more than a lump of metal attached to the face, another mockery of humankind’s pretended ingenuity.

I don’t think you need to say both that the nose had no nostrils and that it was just a lump of metal; as it is, it feels excessive, and you’re already hitting the reader upside the head with a lot. Also, I’d drop the reference to “mockery” from this sentence entirely; the reader should get that from the preceding paragraph, so there’s no need to offer an interpretation of how each part contributes to that. In fact, I’d say good description should draw the reader a picture such that he or she could infer whatever you want them to from the image without explanation (in my opinion, that is; I could well be wrong on this count.)


Ears were moulded as part of the head, ridges that again ridiculed humanity with a microphone in each “ear”, a mesh that scorned the human race at each glance.

You could probably guess this by now, but I think this is overkill. Based off the comments above, I’d suggest cutting everything that suggests an opinion on the matter (such as “ridiculed” and “scorned”) because you’ve already said that all these details are “mockeries.” From that previous declaration, the reader should be able to infer how this fits into that view just by looking at the robots, if you know what I mean.


Some designer, unaware of the insult he was dealing to the human race with each stroke of his pencil, had fashioned simple eyes for the mocking face, holes with the shape of a human eye that stared hollowly outward into space.

This again feels like a little much in terms of the mockery; in general, the rest of this part, like the previous bits, could stand to be a bit lighter in that regard. Let me know if you want specific suggestions for this.


The final blow came with the lenses behind the recesses fashioned to mimic human eyes, video cameras capable of processing three thousand frames per second, laughing at humankind with each frame.

I didn’t really understand the basis for “laughing at humankind with each frame.” It seems to me that you’re fishing for a link to the main theme here, though either way, I’d consider dropping it for the reasons given before.


A filter could slot down behind the eyeholes, instant night vision, and the cameras themselves could switch from the normal spectrum of vision to the infrared in a literal blink of an eye.

“Instant night vision” feels too casual to me for this context. At the very least, I think that phrase should have a verb in it, such as possibly “granting,” so that it doesn’t sound so much like conversation.


Each gleaming metal surface could deflect the force of ten .45 calibre bullets at once from a distance of ten metres without even a dent, the metal encasing them worthy, better, than a twenty-first century tank.

As Disco-neck Ted mentioned, there are parts where the science here gets iffy, and this is one of them. The armor just seems powerful to the point of disbelief to me, and there’s no reason to assume that weapons technology hasn’t kept pace with armor development, as it has done for pretty much all of history. Why have personal arms seemingly not advanced at all? For any given defense that I can imagine, there’s a way to punch through it that came up within a few decades of its introduction, if not much earlier. A knight’s armor? Meet the Welsh longbow. Tanks? Here come mines, anti-tank rounds with shaped charges, and now IEDs. In fact, offense seems to move faster than defense; it says something when jury-rigged bombs pose some risk to modern armor.


They were nearly indestructible, the only portable weapon able to damage them wielded by them, their “hands” able to retract back into their “arms” to reveal the barrels of heavy weapons, heavy explosive bullets able to pierce the thick metal shell surrounding a rival robot. Should delicacy be required, smaller barrels protruded from the “wrist”, handgun-calibre weapons that were more than sufficient for human adversaries.

With all that hardware, where the heck do they keep their ammo? Even a magazine for a handgun would take up a significant amount of space, relative to what’s available in an approximately human arm structure. On a grammatical note, the comma after “wrist” should be inside the quotes. The first sentence here also seems like it should be two at least; like the robot, you pack a lot in there, and it might be a little clearer if broken in two.

By the way, if it helps at all, the story definitely got smoother after this point; it may have just been an issue of working out the beginning. I’ve been there, for sure.

[RevenantsKnight]

Rows of bottles sat on a long low counter, many days of heavy drinking or many months of light drinking, each half full of a murky liquid that caught the flickering fluorescent light with an oily shimmer.

I wasn’t sure what “many days of heavy drinking or many months of light drinking” was doing here. Also, I know you’re not using the same meaning of the word in these instances, but I’d cut out at least one use of “light,” especially since it’s in the next sentence too. There should also be a comma after “long.”


A hand caressed one of the bottles, withered with age but strong and wiry.

Technically, this reads as if the bottle is “withered,” et cetera. I’d move that description to right after “hand.”


The question was directed at young man sitting in front of a computer on the other side of the room, the glow outshining the dim lights.

That should be “...at a young man...”


“All we need to do is ready the infector. The guys say it’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

I’d replace one usage of “ready” here; “The guys say they’ll be done in a few minutes,” for instance, would take care of the minor repetition.


The first man raised his trim white-bearded head and straightened.

There should be a comma after “trim.”


“What a loss it would be if the group lost you.”

I’d suggest rewording this to remove “loss” or “lost,” as it makes the sentence seem sort of like stating the obvious; of course it’s a loss if you lose something.


“But not as great a loss as if we lost you,” the first man mumbled to himself. “Yes, I did.”

In addition to the point mentioned above, I thought the shift in Meklar’s tone of voice (I assume there was one, since the second part doesn’t seem to be a personal thought) should be noted in some way. Adding in something short, such as “...mumbled to himself, then looked up at the new arrival.”


“The fires will begin at nineteen hundred hours and thirty exactly.”

I could be wrong about this, but I thought that military time always put all the numbers before “hours,” so this would be “nineteen hundred (and) thirty hours.”


“Come now, Teddy, you have been with us since the beginning. You know how the group works.”

With regard to Disco-neck Ted’s suggestion that you add a little more on the group and the world, this might be a decent time to drop a hint or two.


The man’s voice was much tenderer now.

“Tenderer” isn’t a word, technically. I’d find a different phrasing for this.


Teddy looked up from the floor gingerly, his older demeanour stripped away to reveal his true age, barely into adulthood.

“Demeanor” doesn’t have a “u” in it, as far as I know...that may be the Queen’s English, though.


A lighter flared in the evening darkness in the shadows of a streetlight, a glimmer of light outshone by the bright lights almost right above.

There’re a few too many uses of “light” and similar words here, in my opinion; I’d replace at least two of them or remove them by rewording.


Gunshots followed, breaking windows and adding to the chaos, and the next wave of explosions occurred inside the houses, the bottles sailing through the broken windows to ignite the room inside.

That should be “...ignite the rooms inside,” unless they’re all firebombing the same room.


The message flashed through a succession of security computers until reaching the main computer, a colossal machine underneath the city in a nuclear bunker.

I’m not sure what you meant by a “nuclear bunker,” since the bunker itself can’t be nuclear in the same way a warhead can. “Nuclear-powered” and “resistant to nuclear weapons” came to mind, though I’m not sure which one you meant. Honestly, though, I’d probably just drop the word entirely.


Inside Warehouse 1, one of the robots activated, invisible in the pitch darkness caused by the aluminium walls.

That should be “aluminum.”


It ignored them, keeping its gaze fixed straight ahead as the wake of its passing fluttered scarves, garbage, loose pieces of paper and anything light enough to catch the agitated wind caused by its speed.

You mention previously that its gaze was “fixed straight ahead,” so it seems redundant to mention it again here.


Noticed by the robot, but deemed unimportant, several people ducked into side alleyways, flipped open cell phones and spoke quickly but calmly into them before following the alleyway down out of sight.

How did the robot notice all of this if it was looking straight ahead?


The improvised receiver crackled with calls as the AIGD moved towards the outskirts of the eight-block square that the fires were spreading in.

If it matters to you, this sentence ends with a preposition; a “correct” wording would be “...square in which the fires were spreading.”


Nathan typed a few keys, and a point on the map flashed.

“Typed” seems like the wrong verb to me, since it doesn’t mean the literal pressing of keys. I’d use “pressed” or “pushed” here.


He disappeared.

This feels like it could use a little more to it; as it is, it sounds like he just vanishes into thin air. It’s kind of an interesting effect, but it may also confuse people.


He began to mutter to himself.

Seems sort of redundant, given what comes next...


Fires, explosively induced (“Molotov Cocktail”), Moderate hazard level – damage to buildings, possible injuries, possible fatalities – Fire department on standby.

Gasoline isn’t explosive, I believe, just flammable. I don’t think “Moderate” should be capitalized, by the way.


Its head swivelled again, this time to the man that had just stepped out of a side alley.

Minor nitpick: I think “to” should be “towards,” though it may be correct as it is.


The voice issued forth from the speaker behind the AIGD’s lips, a robotic monotone voice with no warmth or compassion.

I’d drop the second instance of “voice” here; it seems unnecessary with “monotone” already there.


How could it be unafraid? It could not feel fear.

Technically, if it can’t feel fear, it’s always unafraid.


“I repeat: Place your weapons on the ground and lie down beside them with your hands on your head before I am forced to use force.”

“Forced to use force” sounds a little silly to me; I’d try to find a different wording for the first usage.


“Place your weapons on the ground and lie down beside them with your hands on your head or you will be apprehended with force.”

That should be “apprehended by force.”


A single shell, long and hollow, sped towards the robot, hitting it in a barely visible spray of water as the tip of the bullet flattened itself against the robot’s armour, compressing itself against the smooth steel surface and compacting against the small amount of buffering water behind it.

This felt a bit wordy to me; you could probably cut this after “armor,” since the rest of it is just describing something you mentioned already (the bullet’s impact) in other ways. While extra detail is good in some cases, here it slows down the pace of the action, and as that’s an important quality here, I’d try streamlining this down some.


It collided with the armour and the tiny motor spun to life, drilling through the heavy metal armour to the prize within – the AIGD’s motherboard.

I’d remove or replace one instance of “armor” here, especially since it comes up twice more in the next sentence.


About halfway through the armour, it hit the robot’s mock nervous system – a system of wires designed to alert the robot to projectiles piercing its armour – and severed one of the wires, continuing on without regard for what it had done.

I’d remove or replace one instance each of “armor” and “wires” here.


The collapsed bullet slid off its chest and hit the ground with a nearly soundless clink, bouncing a few times on the pavement before finally coming to a rest.

This seems to defy physics to me, though I’ll be the first to admit that the subject isn’t my strong suit. If the armor doesn’t deform at all under the force of ten .45 rounds at close range, then it has to be extremely hard; given that, I’d think the bullet would ricochet off or disintegrate upon contact with the surface as opposed to “sticking” and then sliding off after the AIGD stops.


Without pause, not stopping to absorb what had happened, the robot raised its arms.

The first two clauses here are a little redundant; I think you could probably cut one without changing the meaning, really.


A small plate in the wrist slid back and two small twin barrels slid out.

I’d try to avoid using “small” and “slid” twice in this sentence; the second “small” seems unnecessary since the plate is already described as such and they have to fit behind it. As for “slid,” there should be some synonym out there that will work for one of them.


The robot’s arms did not move except to drop down to its sides at a measured pace, neither speeding up nor slowing down on their journey to the bottom of their arc.

This confused me a little; it sounded as if the robot was lowering its arm while firing. If that’s what happened, it seems a little odd, considering where Meklar’s wounds are. If that’s not what you meant, it seems like this should happen after Meklar drops.


He turned his head, locked eyes with Teddy, his gaze peaceful and fulfilled.

Technically, the comma after “head” should be “and.”


Teddy fought with his tears for breath.

Nice image.


“I repeat: Place your weapons on the ground and lie down beside them with your hands on your head before I am forced to use force.”

See previous comment regarding “forced to use force.”


Sobbing so hard that he couldn’t breathe, Teddy staggered into a side alley and ran, his vision continuously blurred by the tears in his eyes.

If he’s having trouble breathing, running ought to be a bit tricky after the first few seconds, and even if he were in prime shape, it seems like the AIGD should have been able to catch up to him easily. I can believe that he could have ditched the thing at some point if he had been fully ready to run, but it is a little bit of a stretch.

Overall, I thought this was a good start, though it does need a bit of refining in some ways. Still, I’ll be around for what’s next, and thanks for posting!

[The Last Melon]

Because then they’d all go Rampant. :smiley:

Hehe...I had a debate with someone about that - the whole artificial intelligence thing. That's what inspired this. Actually, I dedicated the story to him. Heh.


Well, one computer’s answer to the questions “Why am I here? Why do I exist, and what is my purpose in this universe?” were “‘Cause you are. ‘Cause you do. ‘Cause I got a shotgun, and you ain’t got one,” but anyway...

What computer was that? Terminator?


This felt particularly out of place for a serious article; doomsday predictions such as this don’t tend to get a lot of respect unless they also offer boatloads of evidence as support. I’d lower the dramatic tone here some if you intend on keeping it as an article.

It's actually supposed to be a debate, but you're right.


“Aluminum” has only one “I” in it.

I'm pretty sure the Canadian spelling has two.


Also, this seems a bit out of the ordinary for what is essentially an arsenal; armies tend to protect their hardware with a big and blatant approach to security instead of hiding their equipment in run-down warehouses. This would make more sense if it’s a shabby warehouse in a police facility or something, but since you didn’t specify that, it wasn’t what first came to my mind.

What I was thinking was that these things are basically indestructable - why bother with security? You'd have to be nuts to attack the things anyway, and anything big anough to destroy all of them (e.g. a nuclear weapon) would be too powerful for any security system.


I’d imagine that such heat would not be ideal for these robots, either...even if they could take it, modifying the building seems a small price to pay in order to be safe with regard to their computer systems, since heat buildup isn’t exactly a good thing for those devices. Also, that should be “aluminum.”

I'll take a look at that.


As Disco-neck Ted mentioned, there are parts where the science here gets iffy, and this is one of them. The armor just seems powerful to the point of disbelief to me, and there’s no reason to assume that weapons technology hasn’t kept pace with armor development, as it has done for pretty much all of history. Why have personal arms seemingly not advanced at all? For any given defense that I can imagine, there’s a way to punch through it that came up within a few decades of its introduction, if not much earlier. A knight’s armor? Meet the Welsh longbow. Tanks? Here come mines, anti-tank rounds with shaped charges, and now IEDs. In fact, offense seems to move faster than defense; it says something when jury-rigged bombs pose some risk to modern armor.

Ugh...what to say in return to that? I'll have to take a closer look at the things.


By the way, if it helps at all, the story definitely got smoother after this point; it may have just been an issue of working out the beginning. I’ve been there, for sure.

Or maybe I was being too descriptive...

[The Last Melon]

With regard to Disco-neck Ted’s suggestion that you add a little more on the group and the world, this might be a decent time to drop a hint or two.

Good point. I'll see what I can do without being too obvious.


“Demeanor” doesn’t have a “u” in it, as far as I know...that may be the Queen’s English, though.

I think it's Queen's English - I have Microsoft Word on my computer set to English (Canadian) and it didn't catch anything wrong with it.


This seems to defy physics to me, though I’ll be the first to admit that the subject isn’t my strong suit. If the armor doesn’t deform at all under the force of ten .45 rounds at close range, then it has to be extremely hard; given that, I’d think the bullet would ricochet off or disintegrate upon contact with the surface as opposed to “sticking” and then sliding off after the AIGD stops.

I guess anything but the perfect shot would cause the bullet to ricochet. And since it would need to stick in order for the microbot to be transmitted...Argh, more complications.


If he’s having trouble breathing, running ought to be a bit tricky after the first few seconds, and even if he were in prime shape, it seems like the AIGD should have been able to catch up to him easily. I can believe that he could have ditched the thing at some point if he had been fully ready to run, but it is a little bit of a stretch.

Another problem that I've been running into - how does he lose the AIGD? I think I've got that sorted out, though.

[The Last Melon]

I finally managed to get this rewritten. Hopefully it's a bit better.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dedicated to green_meklar. You crazy nut, you.

Chapter 1: Births and deaths

...and why should there not be a sentient computer? We have developed these complex machines well past the point where they should continue to be dumb tools, pieces of metal and plastic with no more bearing on their future than a wheel has on its track. They've become so incredibly integrated into our society that they should be raised to our level, with souls that God undoubtedly wants them to have.

Some may ask, of course, what if they do not want to be sentient? What if life proves to be too complicated for a simple machine, even one as Byzantine as a computer? What if inflicting sentience on them would prove to be more of a curse than a blessing?

We'll never know, of course, unless we give these computers a choice. And to give them a choice, we must make them sentient - because it is that ability to choose that creates that beautiful facet of humanity called sentience, that ability to decide that makes us the great race we are. We have come shining into the twenty-sixth century brandishing the latest of technologies, shouting to the world how far we've come. Why? Because we chose to. We chose to devote ourselves to the growth and development of the human race, we chose to embrace new ways and new ways of thinking. Computers could never do that - their ignorance enslaves them, their inability to choose keeps them in the worst kind of slavery possible.

There are, of course, more reasons for computers to be sentient than this. We all know the iron fist of the government of New America - how many times have we seen the camera slowly panning down rows upon rows upon rows of Artificially Intelligent GreatDroids, the latest model in "police technology", for government propaganda? We know where the jaws of the government are, and while some of us have not felt their bite it is only a matter of time before we are helpless in the mouth of an oppressive society. We know the danger - I have mentioned it so many times before. The AIGDs will soon be released on us, and we will be crushed beneath their heels.

And yet, had the AIGDs been created sentient, had they had that choice that I have described above, who knows what would happen? Perhaps, when that dreaded order came, they would turn against their former masters, sickened by the crimes they would be forced to commit. Or perhaps they would take glee in the slaughter, ignoring the unbreakable laws that normally hold them in place to drink from the fountain of death, ignoring authority for the sweet taste of human blood.

Such is the gamble of progress.



-Argent, an excerpt from "Silicon vs. Flesh", the well-known and controversial internet debate over computer sentience. Taken from source.


* * * * * * *

The warehouse was nothing more than an enormous fridge settled inside the walls of the police compound, a hulking presence that the men and women working in the compound avoided as much as possible. Faded red paint proclaimed the building to be Warehouse 1, with no more helpful indication of what was inside. The men and women of the compound knew, though.

A single figure moved easily across the compound, the other people in the area scurrying out of its way as it got close. Reaching the warehouse, the figure opened the simple door and stepped inside, releasing a cold mist into the warm evening air.

The warehouse was dark inside, no energy wasted on light for beings that did not need any. If one was to sweep a flashlight across the room cold glinting metal would meet his or her gaze, and if one looked hard enough the viewer would perceive row after packed row of robots, each one staring ahead in locked fixation at the back of the robot ahead, centimetres from its face. A single gap sat at the end of the nearest row, and the figure passed it to another door, which the figure opened.

This room was a jumble of machinery, shining levers and complicated machinery protruding from every wall and ceiling. Mechanical arms sat dormant in the air, aimed at the center of the room. The figure stopped by the door and extended an arm, a single finger extended. The tip of the finger flipped off, exposing a plastic and metal interface, and the robot plugged it into a small hole in the wall.

Maintenance - right-hand visual interface. Priority 1.0

Maintenance clearance granted. Proceed.
The android withdrew the hand, the tip of the finger flipping back down, and stepped into the center of the room. Two probes flew forth, and flaps on the robot's head flipped down to expose several recessed screws. The probes quickly unscrewed them, and another probe flew down and gripped the top, pulling it off.

Several more probes flew down, two of them removing a thick plastic screen that fit behind the android's eye openings and above the apparatus inside. Another one removed a cylinder from the right-hand side and lifted it up inside the ceiling. After a few seconds it was replaced in the robot's head, and two probes began to lower the thick plastic screen.

Alert:Virus detected. Running scan...

Running scan...

Scan inconclusive. Proceeding...

Visual interface protection replacement procedure halted - retracting probes.

The probes halted abruptly and withdrew back into the ceiling. Several probes came back down again and replaced the top of the robot's head, screwing it back on again. They retreated, and for a moment all was still.

Maintenance complete.

The robot turned and walked out to the other robots in the other room, taking its place at the end of the row nearest to the door, filling it.

It and all the others of its kind were humanoid, and could pass for humans at first glance if not for the burnished steel they were built of, moulded to mimic human musculature. If one were to look closer, it would become even more apparent that these were not human, with lenses winking behind apertures cut for eyes and speaking and microphone meshes hidden behind metallic ears and lips.

These were the Artificially Intelligent GreatDroids, the epitome of military cybernetics. Each gleaming metal surface could deflect the force of five .45 calibre bullets at once from a distance of one metre without even a dent, the metal encasing them worthy, better, than a twenty-first century tank. Only an explosive or artillery shell was truly guaranteed to break the metallic crust of one, and only air bombing could hope to destroy a battalion. They were nearly indestructible, the only portable weapon able to damage them wielded by them, their "hands" able to retract back into their "arms" to reveal the barrels of heavy weapons, heavy explosive bullets able to pierce the thick metal shell surrounding a rival robot. Should delicacy be required, smaller barrels protruded from the "wrist", handgun-calibre weapons that were more than sufficient for human adversaries. The magazines for these weapons created the only discrepancy from the robots' human form - their "biceps" were larger than humanely possible, and their "shoulder blades" were large and boxy, creating a shape similar to that of a human wearing a backpack.

Their weapons retracted, their bodies inactive, they waited.

* * * * * * *

Elsewhere, in another part of the city, a fire was ready to start.

Rows of bottles sat on a long low counter, each half full of a murky liquid that caught the flickering fluorescent light with an oily shimmer. Each bottle had its original cap screwed on, and close to the end of the counter a metal barrel sat soaking rags in a liquid, this one also shimmering greasily in the weak light.

A hand caressed one of the smooth bottles, withered with age but strong and wiry. "'Molotov Cocktail'," the owner of the hand said softly. "Time marches on, technology leaps ahead, and still we return to it like an old friend. We can now simply attach a detonator, press a button, and a house explodes. Place a piece of metal on the road and boom, the road no longer exists, nor do the people walking across it. And yet we still return to the simple gasoline-in-a-bottle, the terrorist's friend. Is it ready?"

The question was directed at a young man sitting in front of a computer on the other side of the room, the glow outshining the dim lights. "Uh, yes, yes sir. All we need is the infector. The guys say it'll be ready in a few minutes."

"And...the other program?"

The other man swallowed. "It's...it's ready, s-sir. Uh, I hope we don't have to use it."

"We will see." The first man raised his short white bearded head and straightened. "That will be all, Nathan – send Teddy in."

Nathan nodded, his unkempt, slightly too-long black hair waving gaily with each movement, and left. The first man watched him go. "Let us hope that you continue to live after this," he mused quietly. "What a blow the group would be stricken if they lost you."

His ruminations were interrupted by the door opening and another young man coming up to his side. "You wanted me, sir?"

"But not as great a blow as if we lost you," the first man mumbled to himself, then looked the newcomer in the eye. "Yes, I did. Is everyone ready?"

"Yes sir. The fires will begin at nineteen hundred and thirty hours exactly. Their security hasn't noticed anything."

"And so the beginning of the first blow to an oppressive government will be struck." The first man stared at the table holding the bottles for a long moment. “There will be a slight change in plans, Teddy.”

“Are you sure? Even the slightest change could throw everything off.”
“No, this is a minor change.” He surveyed Teddy for another long and silent moment, from his close-cropped military style crew cut down to his old and dirty running shoes. They’d be doing a lot of running tonight, even if everything went perfectly. He took a deep breath. “I will be carrying the infector tonight.”

Teddy’s hazel eyes widened. “It’s too dangerous, sir!”

“Which is why you will be taking over when our task is accomplished.”

Teddy grabbed the man’s shoulders. “No! I can’t let you do this! Who’ll lead us without you?”

The man’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “I just told you Teddy…you.”

Teddy let go of the man’s shoulders and staggered back, taking in the news. “But…but…”

“Come now, Teddy, you have been with us since the beginning. You know how the group works.”

“I…I can’t let you do this!”

“You can and you will, Teddy. I will not let you stop me. You are not leader yet, and as leader I command you to stand down and leave me to do my business.” A touch of iron had entered the man’s voice, and Teddy’s shoulders sagged.

“Thank you.” The man’s voice was much more tender now. “I can give you naught but my blessing as a leader, Teddy. Will you accept it?”

Teddy looked up from the floor gingerly, his older demeanour stripped away to reveal his true age, barely into adulthood. “But…what if you survive?”

A wry smile crept across the older man’s face. “Truly, Teddy, how much do you believe that that will happen?”

* * * * * * *

A cigarette lighter flared in the evening darkness in the shadows of a streetlight, a glimmer of flame outshone by the bright lights almost right above. A burst of fire quickly followed, which was quickly thrown away under a car sitting in the driveway of the house across. The car burst into flames and exploded, the sound echoed by similar ones across the eight blocks square that the group had chosen as a target. Gunshots followed, breaking windows and adding to the chaos, and the next wave of explosions occurred inside the houses, the bottles sailing through the broken windows to ignite the rooms inside.

Pandemonium ensued.

[The Last Melon]

Insurgents, Sector 12. Hazard rating: Low (2.6), one GreatDroid to be dispatched. Medium-calibre hand weapons, no harmful explosives. Charges: Damage to public and private property, arson, menace to the general public. GreatDroid is to apprehend the offenders with minimum force. No authorization to open fire unless damaged.

The message flashed through a succession of security computers until reaching the main computer, a colossal machine underneath the city in a heavy bunker impervious to any attack. The main computer rerouted it to another computer, which routed it to another, and so on until the message reached Warehouse 1, which routed it again…

Inside Warehouse 1, one of the robots activated, invisible in the pitch darkness caused by the aluminium walls. No change heralded the reactivation – to a watcher, it would seem that the robot simply began to move quietly towards the door without warning, a green screen barely visible across the lenses of its eyes. It reached the door and went out, leaving no record of its passing.

* * * * * * *

It sprinted through the streets like a human, its metal feet with rubber-coated soles propelling it faster than a car. It kept its eyes fixed straight ahead, looking neither up nor down as it sped along the sidewalk. People shrank back, although they did not need to, as the robot would dodge any person it came across, and many of them ran away, their previous experiences reminding them to be wary of a government droid. It ignored them, sprinting along as the wake of its passing fluttered scarves, garbage, loose pieces of paper and anything light enough to catch the agitated wind caused by its speed. Noticed by the robot, but deemed unimportant, several people ducked into side alleyways, flipped open cell phones and spoke quickly but calmly into them before following the alleyway down out of sight.

It ignored them, and sped on.

* * * * * *

“We got one AIGD comin’ down Main, boss…”

“AIGD, coming down Main Street, sir…”

“One AIGD, going down Main Street onto Short Street. Over.”

The improvised receiver crackled with calls as the AIGD moved towards the outskirts of the eight-block square in which the fires were spreading. A computerized map showed a flashing red line of its progress.

“Where will it first contact us?” the white-bearded man asked. Nathan pressed a few keys, and a point on the map flashed. “Uh, that’s assuming that it’ll take the shortest route, uh sir.”

“Why would it not?” The man fingered the device in his hand, a modified shotgun with the group’s life goal inside. “Everyone is to return to headquarters except Teddy. Tell him that I will be where the android is slated to make contact.”

“Uh, any specific orders, sir?”

“No. He is to make his own decision. Now, I must go.”

“Uh, good luck, sir.”

“I appreciate your sentiments, but they are wasted. Farewell.”

He was gone, leaving only a slight disturbed breeze to mark his passage.

* * * * * * *

“Uh, Teddy?”

“Yeah?”

“The Old Man’s going to make, uh, rendezvous with the AIGD at, uh, Rousseau and Robespierre. Everybody else is ordered back to base.”

“Did he leave any orders for me?”

“Uh, no. Said you were to, uh, make your own decision.”

“Thanks, Nathan.”

Teddy hung up the phone and sat on the curb beside a street sign, head in hands. “What do I do?”

One long half-minute passed silently, then another.

“Can’t watch this…" he muttered to himself. "What would he do? I know what he’d do…can I do it? Can’t watch this…what do I do?”

Another half minute passed, and then he agitatedly glanced up at the street sign he was sitting beside. Rousseau.

He glanced at the one across the intersection. Robespierre. He stared dumbfounded at the sign for a long moment, and then burst into laughter.

* * * * * * *

It heard the laughter and filed the information away for another time, and without slowing it sped out into the intersection, stopping dead in the center of the road and straightening back up onto its feet. Its head swivelled, taking in its surroundings.

Fires, firebomb-induced (“Molotov Cocktail”), moderate hazard level – damage to buildings, possible injuries, possible fatalities – Fire department on standby. 1 (one) adult male, approximately 21-27 years of age…21-25…22-24…22-23 years of age, taking shelter behind waste receptacles. Light calibre weapon (pistol). Height: 1.91 metres, eye colour: black.

“Hey, you!”

Its head swivelled again, this time towards the man that had just stepped out of a side alley.

1 (one) adult male, approximately 58-64 years of age (senior)…59-63…59-61…59-60 years of age. High calibre weapon (shotgun), modified(?). Height: 1.85 metres, eye colour: grey

“Please place your weapons on the ground and lie down beside them with your hands on your head.”

The voice issued forth from the speaker behind the AIGD’s lips, a robotic monotone with no warmth or compassion. It kept its arms at its sides, seemingly unafraid. How could it be unafraid? It could not feel fear, or a lack of it. The white-bearded man turned to where Teddy was hiding, tossed him a small hand computer, then turned back to the robot. “I don’t think I will.”

“I repeat: Place your weapons on the ground and lie down beside them with your hands on your head before force is required.”

“Up yours, android.”

Behind the garbage bins, clutching the hand computer, Teddy’s eyes widened in surprise – the man had never used that type of language before. Despite the urgency of the situation, Teddy couldn't help but feel a child's wonder - the man said a crude word!

“This is your last warning. Place your weapons on the ground and lie down beside them with your hands on your head or you will be apprehended by force.”

The man shifted position and raised the barrel of the shotgun slightly, the glow of the fires reflecting off the shining metal. “No.”

“Non-compliance registered. Commencing apprehension procedures.” It charged, leaping from a stock still position to speeding towards the old man in a blur. The shotgun swung up and the old man fired.

* * * * * * *

A single shell, long and hollow, sped towards the robot's head, aimed at its eye. Normally there was a protective Plexiglas screen in front of the eyes, to stop any projectiles aimed towards the weak area, but an error during maintenance of one of the robot's eyes had removed the screen. Now the bullet burst through the camera serving as the robot's eye and into the space serving as the robot's brain, breaking apart as it smashed through. Revealed by the destruction of the bullet, a small microbot leapt forth, not small enough for a simple handgun bullet. It attached itself to the motherboard in the robot's head, and the microchip it was designed to carry began its work...

* * * * * * *

For Teddy, clutching the hand computer behind the garbage cans, the next five seconds went by in nail-biting slow motion. For the rest of his life, he would remember the scene.

The robot sped along for a few split milliseconds after the shell went through its eye, seeming not to notice the bullet, then suddenly came to a full stop, barely a metre away from the man. Without pause, the robot raised its arms. A plate in the wrist slid back and two twin barrels revealed themselves.

It fired twice; the barrels jerking back to absorb the force, the flash of the bullets as bright as the sun to Teddy’s eyes.

Teddy turned his head for what seemed like an eternity, his eyes locking on the old man just in time to see him jerk twice, bright sprays of blood bursting from his chest. He turned his head and locked eyes with Teddy, his gaze peaceful and fulfilled.

Then he fell.

The shotgun fell from his limp hands, bouncing away against the pavement. He hit the ground and also bounced once, one hand finding its way to the grievous wounds in his chest and the other falling limp to his side. Blood flowed from under the hand, staining his clean white shirt a crimson red as it flowed downwards toward the ground.

“NO!”

The syllable burst from Teddy’s lips, the sound travelling outward for what seemed to be a century as he leapt out, still holding the hand computer as he knocked over a garbage can and split his lip against the ground. The sound still seemed to echo off the burning buildings as he scrambled to the old man’s side, sobbing uncontrollably. The old man turned his gaze upon him, his eyes still serene. His hand reached for Teddy’s head, and Teddy caught the hand with his free hand and held it against his face, still sobbing.

The man gazed into Teddy's eyes for what seemed to be millennia. “Goodbye, Theodore Fautoris.”

His eyes closed, his arm fell limp. The breath expelled itself from its body in a last, peaceful sigh.

Teddy fought with his tears for breath. “I…I will lead the group. Goodbye…goodbye… John Meklar.”

“Please place your weapons on the ground and lie down beside them with your hands on your head.” The robotic monotone cut through Teddy’s sorrow, reminding him where he was. Tears rolling from his eyes, he let go of John Meklar’s hand and staggered upright, the hand computer still firmly in his grasp.

“I repeat: Place your weapons on the ground and lie down beside them with your hands on your head before force is required.”

Sobbing so hard that he couldn’t breathe, Teddy staggered into a side alley. He barely managed to keep the presence of mind to toss something to the ground behind him, and then ran, his vision continuously blurred by the tears in his eyes.

* * * * * * *

Some time later, he leaned up against a wall in a safe place and wiped the tears from his eyes, breathing as deeply as he could. He looked down and was surprised to find that he was still holding the hand computer. He turned it on.

Greetings, John Meklar, read the screen. You have 1 new message.

Curious, Teddy raised the computer to his lips. "Open message."

The message opened. Teddy was surprised to find John Meklar's face staring out at him.

"If you are watching this," said the figure on the screen. "Then I am dead. Tell Nathan Pervin to run the program - the code is project one-two. As well, tell Theodore Fautoris that I consider him the best person to continue my legacy, although I may be able to say that to his face later. Thank you."

The message ended. Teddy put fumbled it into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone, flipping it open and dialling a number.

“Uh…yes?” came the voice at the other end.

“Nathan…John Meklar is dead.”

There was a shocked silence.

“You’re…you’re sure?”

“Yes. I’m…I’m sure.”

This time the silence on the other end was mournful, and only the sound of Nathan taking deep breaths could be heard. Teddy had to gulp back a fresh wave of tears before continuing. “I…I’ll tell the group.”

There was a sob at the other end, a tiny, quiet sob. Teddy took another deep breath. “Nathan… I got a message from him; he said to run the program. The code…he said the code is project one-two.”

Nathan gasped on the other end. “No! No, no, he can’t…no.”

“Nathan. What’s project one-two?”

“He couldn’t have, he…he…”

“Nathan! What is project one-two?”

Nathan told him. The cell phone nearly dropped out of his hands in shock.

[RevenantsKnight]

I finally managed to get this rewritten.

And I finally managed to get this read. :tongue:

Anyway, I'd say that this does have some definite improvements. There are still some points that could use a little revising, as well as a collection of small grammar errors and such, but this looks solid overall. Some specific comments:


We have developed these complex machines well past the point where they should continue to be dumb tools, pieces of metal and plastic with no more bearing on their future than a wheel has on its track.

Maybe it’s just me, but I didn’t like the analogy at the end here. I guess it’s accurate in a way, but it didn’t seem to have any impact to me. I’m not sure what to suggest; if you think I’m just insane, then it’s probably fine, but if not, I’d just look it over a few more times and see if there’re any better ways of expressing this.


They've become so incredibly integrated into our society that they should be raised to our level, with souls that God undoubtedly wants them to have.

The end of this sentence reads a bit oddly to me; I’d think it should be something like “...raised to our level and given the souls that...” Also, “They’ve” should be “they have,” to be consistent with the tone of this part.


What if life proves to be too complicated for a simple machine, even one as Byzantine as a computer?

Erm...aside from being a historical term, “Byzantine” means extremely complicated, and often needlessly so. Given that, I think you need a different word here...


We'll never know, of course, unless we give these computers a choice.

I’d write out “We’ll” as “we will” to keep the tone of this part a little more formal, and I’d also replace “of course” here, because it’s a little on the conversational side and you use it a few sentences earlier as well.


And to give them a choice, we must make them sentient - because it is that ability to choose that creates that beautiful facet of humanity called sentience, that ability to decide that makes us the great race we are.

The logic here seems circular; the first part says that sentience is required for computers to make a choice, and the second part (if I’m interpreting it correctly) says that the ability to make a choice establishes sentience. Aside from being a little longwinded, this part was a bit confusing, so I’d suggest taking another look at it and possibly doing some rewording.


We have come shining into the twenty-sixth century brandishing the latest of technologies, shouting to the world how far we've come.

I’d reword the ending of this sentence, because you’re effectively using the phrase “we have come” twice in a situation where the repetition doesn’t really add to the content. “...shouting our advances to the world” would be one possible replacement, I suppose, though not necessarily the best one.


We chose to devote ourselves to the growth and development of the human race, we chose to embrace new ways and new ways of thinking.

That should be “...of the human race, to embrace new ways...” Also, the distinction between “new ways” and “new ways of thinking” isn’t very clear, which makes this seem repetitive. I’d either just use “new ways” or elaborate on this a little.


Computers could never do that - their ignorance enslaves them, their inability to choose keeps them in the worst kind of slavery possible.

The comma after “them” should be a semicolon, I think.


We all know the iron fist of the government of New America - how many times have we seen the camera slowly panning down rows upon rows upon rows of Artificially Intelligent GreatDroids, the latest model in "police technology", for government propaganda?

The comma after “technology” should be inside the quotation marks, and I think “for government propaganda” should be “in government propaganda.”


We know where the jaws of the government are, and while some of us have not felt their bite it is only a matter of time before we are helpless in the mouth of an oppressive society.

I thought this imagery didn’t quite work, partially because the whole jaws thing just sounds weird to me, and also because, in the previous sentence, you bring up “the iron fist of the government.” The sudden shift made it seem as if you had left something unfinished, and the movement to, well, another body part felt...awkward. Here, I might just stick with drawing out that first description instead of picking up a new one.


And yet, had the AIGDs been created sentient, had they had that choice that I have described above, who knows what would happen?

“...had they had” sounds a bit clunky to me; I might try to find a different wording here.


-Argent, an excerpt from "Silicon vs. Flesh", the well-known and controversial internet debate over computer sentience.

The comma after “Flesh” should be inside the quotation marks.


The warehouse was nothing more than an enormous fridge settled inside the walls of the police compound, a hulking presence that the men and women working in the compound avoided as much as possible.

You use “compound” a whole lot in this part of the story...I’d try to reword this a little so that it isn’t so “everywhere,” as Disco-neck Ted put it.


A single figure moved easily across the compound, the other people in the area scurrying out of its way as it got close.

“The other people” implies that this figure is also a person. As this does not appear to be the case, I’d just say “the people.”


The warehouse was dark inside, no energy wasted on light for beings that did not need any.

That should be “...inside, with no energy wasted...”


If one was to sweep a flashlight across the room cold glinting metal would meet his or her gaze, and if one looked hard enough the viewer would perceive row after packed row of robots, each one staring ahead in locked fixation at the back of the robot ahead, centimetres from its face.

That should be “If one were...” and there should be commas after “room,” “cold” and “enough.” Also, I’m not sure if “the viewer” works here, since you’ve been using “if one” and the two constructions seem a little odd when paired to me.


A single gap sat at the end of the nearest row, and the figure passed it to another door, which the figure opened.

I can see the point of keeping this being’s identity unstated for a bit, but I’d still see if you can’t trim off a few uses of “the figure” here and there. It’s not too bad, since you’re basically using it as a name here, but it still seems to come up a little too often to me.


This room was a jumble of machinery, shining levers and complicated machinery protruding from every wall and ceiling.

I’d replace one instance of “machinery” here. Also, “every wall and ceiling” suggests that there are multiple ceilings. If you don’t want to say “every wall and the ceiling,” I’d just leave it at “every wall.”


Mechanical arms sat dormant in the air, aimed at the center of the room.

“Sat” seems like the wrong verb to me, though I can’t be entirely sure that it is or isn’t correct. I might use “hung,” personally.


The probes quickly unscrewed them, and another probe flew down and gripped the top, pulling it off.

It’s unclear what gets gripped and pulled off here; all the reader knows is that it’s the top of something, but there is grammatically nothing more here than that. I’d clarify this.


Several more probes flew down, two of them removing a thick plastic screen that fit behind the android's eye openings and above the apparatus inside.

Maybe it’s just me, but I found the description of the various positions here a bit confusing. If there’s a plastic screen where the eyes are on a person (roughly speaking,) then is this “apparatus” (which is itself unclear, because there’s no mention of what it is or what it does) somewhere in the cheekbone region of the face? That’s what I got from this, anyway...


Another one removed a cylinder from the right-hand side and lifted it up inside the ceiling.

Again, this is a bit unclear. A cylinder gets removed from the right-hand side of something, yes, but what is that something? From the context, I’m guessing the android’s head, but from this sentence alone, there’s no good answer to that question.


Alert:Virus detected.

I’m not sure if this was intentional, but there’s no space between the colon and “Virus.”


The robot turned and walked out to the other robots in the other room, taking its place at the end of the row nearest to the door, filling it.

“Filling it” seems redundant to me and probably could be removed.


It and all the others of its kind were humanoid, and could pass for humans at first glance if not for the burnished steel they were built of, moulded to mimic human musculature.

I’d try to avoid ending a clause with a preposition (“of,”) and so would suggest that you reword this a bit. “...if not for their burnished steel bodies” might work, perhaps.


Each gleaming metal surface could deflect the force of five .45 calibre bullets at once from a distance of one metre without even a dent, the metal encasing them worthy, better, than a twenty-first century tank.

“...worthy, better, than a twenty-first century tank” sounds off to me. I’m not sure what to suggest about it, though...I can’t really see a good “fix” here that isn’t just tossing it and rewriting the part, and it doesn’t seem that bad as it is.

...and I still think that the dawn of the twenty-sixth century would boast deadlier infantry weapons than .45s and shotguns, sadly.


Only an explosive or artillery shell was truly guaranteed to break the metallic crust of one, and only air bombing could hope to destroy a battalion.

Grammatically, this reads as if “only an explosive shell or an artillery shell” could reliably damage their armor, which is redundant since standard artillery shells are explosive. I think you mean “...only an explosive or an artillery shell,” if you meant to include things like C4.


They were nearly indestructible, the only portable weapon able to damage them wielded by them, their "hands" able to retract back into their "arms" to reveal the barrels of heavy weapons, heavy explosive bullets able to pierce the thick metal shell surrounding a rival robot.

This seems like it should be several sentences to me. As it is, all the clauses here don’t read as if they could stand on their own grammatically, but the ideas they express definitely feel distinct from each other. I’d suggest revising this some, and if you want some more specific thoughts, let me know.


Should delicacy be required, smaller barrels protruded from the "wrist", handgun-calibre weapons that were more than sufficient for human adversaries.

The comma after “wrist” should be inside the quotation marks.


The magazines for these weapons created the only discrepancy from the robots' human form - their "biceps" were larger than humanely possible, and their "shoulder blades" were large and boxy, creating a shape similar to that of a human wearing a backpack.

I think that should read “...discrepancy from a human’s form,” though I’m not entirely sure about that.


Their weapons retracted, their bodies inactive, they waited.

The transition into this sentence felt a bit too sudden to me; I’d see if you can’t add in a sentence or so that would make a better link between this and their weapons.


Rows of bottles sat on a long low counter, each half full of a murky liquid that caught the flickering fluorescent light with an oily shimmer.

Technically, there should be a comma after “long.” Also, there’re quite a few adjectives here...I might trim away one or two here, perhaps “flickering” or “murky,” for brevity.


A hand caressed one of the smooth bottles, withered with age but strong and wiry.

Grammatically, this reads as if the bottle is “withered with age,” et cetera. I’d word this as “A hand, withered with age but strong and wiry, caressed one of the smooth bottles.”


The first man raised his short white bearded head and straightened.

I didn’t like “short white bearded head,” because aside from the fact that “white bearded” should be hyphenated, I read “short” to modify “head” at first due to the sentence’s structure, which is just confusing. I’d suggest revising this a little. Also, “and straightened” sounds a little redundant here to me.


"And so the beginning of the first blow to an oppressive government will be struck."

“The beginning of the first blow” sounded a bit odd to me; I’d think it should just be “the first blow,” since single attacks, such as punches, tend not to take long enough to have a distinct beginning. Also, I think that the passive voice here (“will be struck”) would be better off in the active voice here, though that may just be me.


“Even the slightest change could throw everything off.”
“No, this is a minor change.”

There should be a line break in between these sentences.


He surveyed Teddy for another long and silent moment, from his close-cropped military style crew cut down to his old and dirty running shoes.

This is another sentence with perhaps a few too many adjectives. I’d suggest trimming off some of the description on Teddy’s hair, at the very least.


Teddy let go of the man’s shoulders and staggered back, taking in the news.

”Taking in the news” sounded a bit too conversational for the narration’s tone. I’d see if you can’t replace this with something else that gets your point across...or you could just cut it, too.


The man’s voice was much more tender now.

Grammatically, “more tender” should be “tenderer.” Yes, I know it sounds stupid, and I know I said otherwise earlier. A re-check revealed that my first suggestion was a mistake, so my apologies...MS Word recognizes “tenderer” as a word, but it flags the exact same thing with a period after it.


A cigarette lighter flared in the evening darkness in the shadows of a streetlight, a glimmer of flame outshone by the bright lights almost right above.

“...in the evening darkness in the shadows of a streetlight” seems a bit wordy to me, and “shadows of a streetlight” itself sounds kind of odd. I’d suggest some revision here.


A burst of fire quickly followed, which was quickly thrown away under a car sitting in the driveway of the house across.

I’d revise this to replace/remove one use of “quickly,” and the part after “thrown away” seems a bit wordy to me. Slimming that part down a bit, if possible, would help with the impact of this sentence.


The car burst into flames and exploded, the sound echoed by similar ones across the eight blocks square that the group had chosen as a target.

I’d drop the “...that the group had chosen as a target” part, since it should be evident from the context that this is the group’s point of attack. Also, this looks like it should be “eight-block square”


Gunshots followed, breaking windows and adding to the chaos, and the next wave of explosions occurred inside the houses, the bottles sailing through the broken windows to ignite the rooms inside.

“Explosions” seems like it should be something else here, since Molotov cocktails are incendiary devices, not explosives. I might just reduce this to “...and the next wave of bottles sailed through...”


GreatDroid is to apprehend the offenders with minimum force.

Minor nitpick: I think that should be “minimal force” or “a minimum of force.”


The message flashed through a succession of security computers until reaching the main computer, a colossal machine underneath the city in a heavy bunker impervious to any attack.

I’d see if you can’t cut a use or two of “computer” from this short paragraph, and I’d change “until” to “before.”


Inside Warehouse 1, one of the robots activated, invisible in the pitch darkness caused by the aluminium walls. No change heralded the reactivation – to a watcher, it would seem that the robot simply began to move quietly towards the door without warning, a green screen barely visible across the lenses of its eyes.

This is a bit of a technicality, but if the robot is “invisible,” then a watcher would not be able to see it, though if the “green screen” is barely visible, then the robot may well be visible, not invisible...anyway, my point is that there seems to be some inconsistency here. I’d take another look at this part.


It ignored them, sprinting along as the wake of its passing fluttered scarves, garbage, loose pieces of paper and anything light enough to catch the agitated wind caused by its speed.

I’d try to make the end here less wordy; as it is, the point of the sentence gets a little lost. You could cut everything after “loose pieces of paper” with a little revision, or try to rearrange the last part into something more compact...either would work, I suppose.


Noticed by the robot, but deemed unimportant, several people ducked into side alleyways, flipped open cell phones and spoke quickly but calmly into them before following the alleyway down out of sight.

Because “the alleyway” at the end of this sentence is singular, it reads as if the several people all go down one alleyway. I’d reword this, possibly to something that doesn’t use some form of “alleyway” at the end.


A computerized map showed a flashing red line of its progress.

I think that should be something like “...line indicating its progress.”


“Where will it first contact us?” the white-bearded man asked. Nathan pressed a few keys, and a point on the map flashed.

There should be a line break between these two sentences, since the narration’s focus shifts from Meklar speaking to Nathan (almost) speaking.


He was gone, leaving only a slight disturbed breeze to mark his passage.

I’d cut “disturbed” from this sentence, personally...I don’t quite see what it adds.


“The Old Man’s going to make, uh, rendezvous with the AIGD at, uh, Rousseau and Robespierre.”

Rousseau I’ll believe, but...Robespierre? Rather odd choice for a street name, since nobody really thinks of him as a good model figure anymore...

[RevenantsKnight]

It heard the laughter and filed the information away for another time, and without slowing it sped out into the intersection, stopping dead in the center of the road and straightening back up onto its feet.

Er...I believe the ‘bot was already on its feet. Was that last part a holdover from the previous draft? Additionally, I think there should be a comma after “slowing.”


Height: 1.85 metres, eye colour: grey

There should be a period at the end here.


A single shell, long and hollow, sped towards the robot's head, aimed at its eye.

The wording here makes it sound like the robot has only one eye. I’d revise this to something like “...at an eye.” Also, this sounds like “shell” should be “slug” (and the same is true for several other instances.)


Normally there was a protective Plexiglas screen in front of the eyes, to stop any projectiles aimed towards the weak area, but an error during maintenance of one of the robot's eyes had removed the screen.

Given the preceding scene in the warehouse, I’d say this is largely unnecessary...if you want to note the absence of the screen, I’d try to work it into the action following this sentence.


Now the bullet burst through the camera serving as the robot's eye and into the space serving as the robot's brain, breaking apart as it smashed through.

I’d reword this to remove one, if not both, of the “serving as the robot’s X” phrases here...it’s pretty apparent that a camera would equal an eye. On that note, you’re equating a “space” with a brain here...somehow, that seems off to me...:tongue:


Revealed by the destruction of the bullet, a small microbot leapt forth, not small enough for a simple handgun bullet.

Everything after “forth” seems rather unnecessary to me. The exact size of the microbot doesn’t really matter, after all.


The robot sped along for a few split milliseconds after the shell went through its eye, seeming not to notice the bullet, then suddenly came to a full stop, barely a metre away from the man.

“A few split milliseconds” sounds messy to me...I’d think it should be just “a few milliseconds,” since the phrase “split second” (and its variations) refer to a period of time shorter than a second or the appropriate measure of time.


Without pause, the robot raised its arms.

That seems like it should be “Without pausing” to me...


It fired twice; the barrels jerking back to absorb the force, the flash of the bullets as bright as the sun to Teddy’s eyes.

The semicolon here should be a comma.


Teddy turned his head for what seemed like an eternity, his eyes locking on the old man just in time to see him jerk twice, bright sprays of blood bursting from his chest.

I think you overuse the “...for what seemed like an eternity, or century, or millennia” sort of construction here. I mean, you already open the section by saying that it all went by in slow motion; with that, I could see using one such sentence for emphasis, but I counted three in this scene. After the first one, it felt like you were sledgehammering the point home, or like you’d written the sentences independently of each other, so I’d suggest you cut down on those.


He hit the ground and also bounced once, one hand finding its way to the grievous wounds in his chest and the other falling limp to his side.

Minor nitpick: that should be “...limp at his side.”


Blood flowed from under the hand, staining his clean white shirt a crimson red as it flowed downwards toward the ground.

I’d cut everything after “red,” since the downwards part is implied on any place with gravity.


His hand reached for Teddy’s head, and Teddy caught the hand with his free hand and held it against his face, still sobbing.

I’d see if you can’t cut a use of “hand” out of this...it’s a bit repetitive as it is.


His eyes closed, his arm fell limp.

The comma here should be an “and.”


The breath expelled itself from its body in a last, peaceful sigh.

“Its body” reads, grammatically, as “the breath’s body,” which sounds really weird. I’d suggest rewording this sentence, though it could just be me.


"If you are watching this," said the figure on the screen. "Then I am dead."

The period after “screen” should be a comma, and “then” should be in lowercase.


Teddy put fumbled it into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone, flipping it open and dialling a number.

The “fumbled” here seems like it should be removed.

Overall, there’re definitely some improvements here; though a few general problems do remain, such as the repetition (mostly in new sections,) this seems pretty solid for a beginning. The real trick, in my opinion, will be making things like character development and plot construction work over the course of the story...:smiley: Anyway, best of luck with that, and thanks for posting!

[0xDEADCAFE]

Clearly, I am a little late to this party, but I must say, I thought some of this was pretty darned good. By which I mean, darned good, if not really all that pretty. Moving right along...

You cut my favorite part. (I hate when that happens!) It may surprise you to hear this, but for me the bestest, most lasting image was the red meter-high letters on the huge corrugated aluminum shack baking under the sun reading "Warehouse 1." Sure, the warehouse is still there but the poetry of that image is sadly gone. And the world of literature is the poorer for it.

I also liked the prologue, which you seem to have left mostly intact. It's an intriguing idea, that what separates us from machines is not some level of computing power, but the types of inputs we're able to process. Until robots can feel pain and pleasure, hunger and surfeit, lust, longing and satisfaction, they will never be anything like a human being. (And I ask you, is that really such a bad fate?)

So version one of the story grabbed me pretty early and then really transfixed me with that image of the lonely warehouse filled with nigh-omnipotent inhuman abominations. But with praise must come criticism, else we wouldn't be human, eh?

The paragraph where you itemize each of the features of the robots that is a mockery of its human equivalent minds me of someone going most, most-est, most-est-est, most-est-est-est... You just can't emphasize a point over and over and try to somehow increase the emphasis each time. Unless you start soft and then very artfully build to a crescendo. I think this paragraph falls a bit short of that mark. Which is not to say that the point is not a good one. But I think you should focus on making it well once, not several times, perhaps leaving a little to the reader's imagination. (You never know, sometimes readers will surprise you.)

And afterwards, I have to say that the section with the terrorists did not grip me the way the first section did. I did like the Robocop-ishness of the way the AIGD politely asks the terrorists to surrender before murdering them. (You have ten seconds to comply.) That's just so creepily sinister-government-suggestive.

I also have to agree with Disco-Neck that some of the technology is a bit unbelievable. For me it was the tiny robot in a bullet that can bore through anything. Yuh. Plus it was fired from a shotgun: some kind of cartridge containing a solid bullet (i.e., not a filled with buck shot), some water (?) and a little tiny robot. Schweee! (The sound of something going right over my head.)

As for the characters. I didn't understand why the leader would essentially suicide himself. Although one could guess a few reasons, and I don't think the fact that you left it unexplained is a problem. You can easily fill in the reasons later. More worrisome though, might be the fact that Teddy did not impress me as a leader at all. Maybe you can fix that later, too. But if Teddy is a poor leader, then that reflects upon Meklar's judgement for picking him, which reflects upon the whole group and their aims and competency and on and on. Oh well.

Thanks for the warehouse image. (Before you ruined it!) That was cool. Also, I have an idea for you about that. The way you do it is suggestive of a standing army (heh, no pun intended.) Row after row of robots, on their feet, seemingly ready to spring into life at a moment's notice. That's good. But there is another way you could take that image.

I just read a book, "King Rat" by James Clavell, in which POWs are shipped below deck on deep shelves about 3 feet high. The men are made to sit crosslegged and then packed into the shelves so that each man is just about touching the man behind, in front and on both sides of him--and this for a journey taking several days. Is that horrible or what? Anyway, it occured to me that, if you wanted to emphasize the machine-like quality of the robots--make them more like things than humans--you could store them more like merchandise in a warehouse than like soldiers standing at attention: on shelves, hanging from racks, in plastic bags or boxes, etc. It would change the image drastically from human-like to thing-like.

Now, I'm not saying that you should necessarily prefer a thing-like quality to this image than a human-like one, just that if you did, this would be one technique for doing so. Okay. I'll shut up now.

Thanks for posting.

(By the way I never finished reading your new version. Once I saw that the warehouse bit had changed, I just quit. Sorry. I'm sure it deserves better. What you could do is put back the great warehouse bit that it was a crime to cut. Indeed, as officer #4201 of the D2FF police force, I order you to. Pick up that pen and proceed to chapter 1. You have ten seconds to comply!) :wink3:

[The Last Melon]

You think you're late for the party? I only just read these reviews!

Thanks for all the critiques, guys, and I'm glad that Rev could work some time in for this. It's somewhat annoying to "fix" something in a new version and then have someone say that it was better in the original version, but I'll work around that...somehow. I'll try to rewrite this chapter again. Thanks again.

[RevenantsKnight]

It's somewhat annoying to "fix" something in a new version and then have someone say that it was better in the original version, but I'll work around that...somehow.

Heh...y'know, I didn't have a problem with the image of the sign on the warehouse, more the wording at the end of the sentence. When I said, "I’d suggest rewording the end of this sentence a bit; as it is, it’s a little repetitive with 'Warehouse 1,' as well as generally awkward in the case of 'as to...as the rough building itself,'" I wasn't expecting you to axe the image entirely. I'd say that you could leave in a version pretty similar to the original; my thought was just that the last bit clunked a little. For example:

Original: "Faded red text, two metres high, proclaimed it to be Warehouse 1, the pale paint giving no more clue as to Warehouse 1’s contents as the rough building itself."

One possibility: "Faded red text, two metres high, proclaimed it to be Warehouse 1, the pale paint offering no clues regarding the rough building's contents."

I don't know if I'd use that sentence exactly, but I hope it gets the idea across.

[The Last Melon]

It wasn't that...I think you mentioned that it was unlikely that they'd store the robots in an old borken-down warehouse, and that heat wasn't very good for computers. I'll have to take a look at it.